


you didn't always wear a mask

by Rachelle_Lo



Series: you didn't always wear a mask, but you've never stopped running [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: "i don't sleep" being one of them, Aftermath of Violence, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Dreamon, Emotional Manipulation, Escape, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Inhuman Dream, Nonhuman Dream, Prison, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), i hope you enjoy, let me extrapolate characterization from two one-liners, or semi-villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachelle_Lo/pseuds/Rachelle_Lo
Summary: It’s done.Back to obsidian, you slide to the ground. Your head rests on your knees. Tired, alone, celled in, and more than a little insane, probably.(At the end of it all, Dream knows he's the villain. He didn't want to be until he did.)
Series: you didn't always wear a mask, but you've never stopped running [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174055
Comments: 59
Kudos: 464





	you didn't always wear a mask

**Author's Note:**

> the cycle of abuse. dream's a fascinating villain.

You didn’t always wear a mask. The memory is faint, but you know it’s real: you once had a family, and when you smiled at them with all of your teeth, they could see your bunched cheeks. They smiled back. 

But then you didn’t have a family, or a home, and the world was bitterly cold and hot in turns through the day and night. The winds would blow sand that could scour skin, and you began to cover your face, for the first time, for protection from the winds.

(Later, you cover your face for different reasons.)

You grew fast, and smart, and cunning, a skilled survivalist. You learned how to cover and fill your body with all it needed to live. It needed different things than most people, so you had to learn by trial and error; observation didn’t work.

You were different. People didn’t like your face. Too inhuman. They did things to you.

You covered your face, then, nearly all the time. It was safer. 

Where there were people, you moved at night because people lie down and don’t move at night (unlike you). Where there weren’t people you moved by day because mobs burn in daylight. The nights alone are long and boring—nothing to do but stare at the stars if you’ve picked a good spot and made a good shelter.

It was a world with strange rules you didn’t know and no one would tell you. You probably learned many of the rules wrong.

***

All you wanted was a family. You found one.

You founded a world for them.

You invited more people in. You found more friends.

People act in strange ways when they’re all together—the invisible judgments and strings between each person shape each interaction and soon people are picking favorite people and excluding others and encouraging each other to break what few rules there are in this little world.

Like sand in a desert wind, it picks up and scours and scours away until it strips everything good away from your little world and little family.

Words don’t work. Force doesn’t work. Negotiation, bombing, compromise. Nothing works.

You remember moving in the dark to avoid eyes and hands on you. You remember what you learned from them: people unite in the face of something they all hate.

You didn’t mean to become the villain in their stories. You wanted to keep your home safe. But you’re the villain now, and you might as well take advantage of it.

So you become the villain.

(And part of you enjoys the chaos. _With every ending there is a new beginning_.)

***

It’s done.

Back to obsidian, you slide to the ground. Your head rests on your knees. Tired, alone, celled in, and more than a little insane, probably.

“It’s done,” you say to yourself. “Our family. Together again.”

You’re not part of it, but that’s all right. That was the plan.

***

The prison had been an ambitious project, truly an incredible feat filled with redstone, portal mechanics, guardians, the works. Sam had outdone himself. It was fun working with him.

You’d spent so much special attention on what prisoners could _do_ inside the walls—recreation, walking space, even vegetation in some areas. You didn’t want anyone to go insane inside the walls. (You didn’t want to go insane.)

But you don’t get to walk, or read, or touch the plants, because they put you in the most secure cell in the fortress and they don’t let you out: the high security prisoner cell.

Sam is a friend. Sam owes you a favor. The next time he visits—( _if he visits)—_ you’ll get your key and leave. You’ll wait until he’s gone, so he won’t be blamed.

***

You really don’t understand. You know it’s still wrong, what you did, and not kind, but you’ve been through worse. You thought you were being lenient.

It was like a timeout. Finally, some real consequences for Tommy’s actions. You gave him chances, several, and warnings. He lied, and swore, and tried to threaten you. ( _He tried to threaten you—of course you’d retaliate harder.)_ When he was exiled, you let anyone visit.

You didn’t keep him in a cage.

You let him walk around free—you _told_ him he could move places if he wanted.

_You were bad, you were bad, and you scared them, the people, so you’re stuck in here until you learn your lesson—_

You checked to make sure he had food, and weapons, and shelter.

_Your stomach cramps and that gives you an idea of how long you’ve been in here—_

Yes, making him drop his weapons and armor everyday wasn’t _nice,_ but it was discipline. It made him behave better. It gave him something to do.

_There’s not much room to move besides stretching to relieve some of the stiffness—_

You let everyone visit. (Not all of them at once for that beach party, of course—they’d probably turn against you and decide to bring him back with that many people together—crowds were dangerous.)

He got to talk to people. He was just _stupid,_ and he didn’t learn anything. Why didn’t he learn anything? It worked with you, after all. You didn’t turn out too bad.

You’re definitely not as bad as _they_ were in your _before_. So why was Tommy crying about it? Just learn to read the room, idiot. Learn some self-preservation instincts for once. There are far worse things out there than big bad Dream and his obsidian walls. There are far worse things to lose than discs.

And yeah, Tommy didn’t handle it as well as you expected, and that surprised you, that a few weeks of living in the woods was enough to turn that little gremlin hysterical. Maybe you did feel bad when you saw him trying not to cry, later, shaking at the sight of you, swearing weakly. But a part of you scoffed in disbelief: _that’s all it took?_

***

Sam doesn’t come for a long time.

You start to grow worried. Did something happen to him? Did the others band together against him? Did they turn against him because he helped build the prison?

No. No, it took so much effort to put you down. They wouldn't waste it on taking down Sam. 

_But Sam can’t fight like you._

Shut up. You know that time starts to warp after enough time alone. Start counting the seconds and the hours. Breathe deep and meditate. Rub your skin to simulate contact. You know how to deal with this.

You remember how to deal with the isolation, but in the _before_ you never had to deal with people you loved thinking you were a monster. Just people you hated.

Those are the thoughts that worm into your head.

***

“Sam,” you say, your face moving in a way it hasn’t for a long time. “Sam, it’s so good to see you.”

“Dream.” He doesn’t say much else.

“Everything’s okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, Dream. They’re healing. Recovering.”

Good. “No problems for you?”

“No.”

“That’s good, Sam. I need to call in that favor. You have that Ender chest with you, right? If you drop it for five seconds, that’s all I need.”

He stares for long enough that you grow uncomfortable.

“Sam?”

“Dream, I can’t. You…you’ll hurt a lot of people. You already did.”

“I’m not going to cause _more_ problems.” You laugh a little bit. “Look, Sam, just drop the Enderchest for five seconds, turn around, whatever, and not even you will know how I got out. I’ll wait a few days so they don’t blame you.”

“Do you not care about the people you hurt?” Sam bursts out. “You’re acting—this is just like when we worked on this prison together, like nothing’s different.” 

“Of course I care,” you say, surprised, “but I had to do it.”

“Did you? You killed so many people like it was nothing. You _had_ to do it?”

“They were quick kills. Practically painless. It’s easy to respawn from that type.” It wasn’t like you’d spawn-trapped them, caging in their location and _slashing at your inhuman face each time you’d just come back to life hoping you’d stay dead—_

You might have tuned out for a second, because Sam is pressing his lips tightly together when you look at him. “You don’t even care. You don’t even care, do you? I saw you laughing while you did it, Dream. Was it fun for you? Did you have fun pulling all the strings?"

You don’t see the problem like he does, that much is clear. You’re not sure what to say.

“Sam,” you say, voice gentle. “This is part of the plan. Five seconds. That’s all. Favor’s done.”

His face twists, and he stares at you. He turns, and—and he walks away.

You stare numbly after him. Something cold and horrible stirs in your gut. 

***

The next time Sam comes, you talk to him casually until he’s drawn close to the iron slats, and then you grab him and slam him to the bars. The impact stuns him for a second, and you use that second to dip into the code of his inventory.

You grab everything. Axe, armor, shield, keycode book. They clatter to the ground as you pull Sam to the bars in a carotid chokehold. It doesn’t knock him out, but it leaves him dazed and weak enough for you to slip out as he’s slumped on the ground. He’ll have bruises on the sides of his neck.

“Sorry, Sam,” is all you say.

You probably could have convinced him with time, but you weren’t willing to take that chance. Or wait. It’s not fun in solitary. Even with meditation and counting you’re feeling the strain, the mania. You were supposed to be in the normal cells, dammit.

The alarms blare just as you walk through the entrance. Sam.

The raucous sounds prompted a slew of messages.

_What is that?_

_Is that the prison?_

_It the prison_

_don’t tell me_

_IS IT DREAM_

Sam says, _yes._

_EVEROYNE GET THER E NOW_

That was Tommy.

_How did he get out??_

_ON MY WAY_

Your weapons aren’t great, and you don’t have any enderpearls. You twirl your axe and start running down the path. The hunt is on.

***

You’re headed northeast. As far as you know no one’s built out far in that direction. Techno’s built out the farthest, but his base is in the south.

They’re aiming to kill you. It’s their best option, granted, since they’d set your spawn to the prison.

At first it’s fun. Like a manhunt, almost. But your plan’s worked too well.

Everyone’s united now. Against you. Which means they live near each other. Which means they all communicate with each other, unlike the splintered factions that had existed before. They work together.

You might not actually make this.

You’re bleeding.

They’re still following.

***

You’re bleeding.

_They’re still following._

“You’re not getting away, you sunnuva—”

An arrow to the shoulder. A swipe in the armor’s gap on your elbow. And last—worst—

Your own trident. You’d given it to him, in exile. It stabs through your gut, slicing through skin and a wall of fat and muscle and further.

It hurts. It hurtsithurtsithurts

_you want to cry pain is pain invasive why are you still running don’t you dare cry you’re weak pathetic in front of them it hurts_

If you were human you would have died. You still feel like you might.

Yes, you’re a monster, yes, you deserve this, probably, but they’re hunting you and slashing at you like you’re a mob and they want your skin.

Your heart pounds and your eyes water. You haven’t felt this in a long time.

But it’s fine.

You’re fine.

You don’t die. You don’t go to solitary.

They don’t catch you.

You’re not human and you don’t need to sleep. Your energy comes from a different source. You outrun them.

***

It’s worth it, isn’t it? They’re all together now.

Something flails helplessly in your chest. It’s worth it, isn’t it? They’re happy. There’s peace. They’ll rebuild and heal together.

That’s what a common enemy does for people—you learned that in the villages, in that cage, in the sands—it unites them. So you became the villain. You didn’t mean to until you did.

_(“Why would you do this?”_

_“It’s fun.”)_

You didn’t always wear a mask. The memory is faint, but you know it’s real: you once had a family, and they once smiled at you.

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to see more, please let me know! i'm feeling the cottage-core redemption arc lately.


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